A critique of modern philosophy

Ali M. Rizvi

alimrizvi@gmail.com

[revised version; comments welcome]

Abstract: In this paper I challenge modern philosophy’s self-conception as an absolute critique (i.e., a

critique of everything/anything). I argue that such a conception is not only misconceived, it is also

ideological in character. Looking back to its origins, I develop a genealogy of modern philosophy’s self-

understanding in order to deconstruct it and disassociate it from possible alternative conceptions of

philosophy, arguing for a more modest conception of philosophy as a subject which provides tools for

developing human powers of reflection.

The wise in every age conclude, what Pyrrho taught and Hume renewed, that

dogmatists are fools.

Thomas Blacklock1

This is an essay (exercise/askesis) in the philosophy of philosophy, and not

merely in metaphilosophy, to paraphrase the opening lines of Timothy Williamson’s

recent book. As Williamson rightly claims, to talk about philosophy is itself doing

philosophy (Williamson, 2007, pp. ix-x). In this sense, a discourse about philosophy

cannot be metaphilosophy, done from beyond and above (from an Archimedean vantage

point beyond the bounds of specific space and time) (cf. Heidegger, 1956, pp. 21ff.).

Acknowledgements: thanks to John Campbell and Dirk Maclean for detailed written comments on an

earlier draft of this paper and for ensuing discussion. Jürgen Franz, Sara Monira Ludin, Chris Iliopoulos,

Muhammad Yasin, and Jeremy Lowe also provided valuable feedback. I’m grateful to all of them.
1
Quoted in Popkin, 1993, p. 517.

1
Willard Quine, following Otto Neurath, has likened science (and) philosophy to “a boat

which, if we are to rebuild it, we must rebuild plank by plank while staying afloat in it”

(Quine, 1960, p. 3). Quine uses this metaphor principally to demonstrate the piecemeal

character of philosophy, but it can also be invoked (as I do here) to allude to its immanent

character. This discussion is closely connected to the nature of philosophy (or at least to

the prominent part of it). Philosophy is not only a reflective but also a self-reflective

enterprise;2 in it, reflection and self-reflection are intertwined in a unique way.

Sociologist and philosopher Jürgen Habermas has connected this double reflexive

character of philosophy to the ‘essence’ of natural language itself:

Because of the reflexive character of natural languages, speaking about what

has been spoken, direct or indirect mention of speech components, belongs to

the normal linguistic process of reaching understanding. The expression

“metalinguistic judgments” in a natural language about sentences of the same

language suggests a difference in level that does not exist. It is one of the

most interesting features of natural languages that they can be used as their

own languages of explication.

(Habermas, 1998, p. 39)

What Habermas says about natural language applies to philosophy as well, and it is

intimately connected to the reflective character of philosophy.

2
Reflection involves distance from the object of enquiry, while self-reflection requires that the subject

maintain a certain distance from herself.

2
 Philosophy has existed in many cultures, and it can be safely said that, in a sense,

if the properties of reflection and self-reflection are coterminous with human life,

philosophy is also coterminous with it. Such reflective attitudes towards the self, the

universe, and the other can be found in various places across space and time, and the

commonality among them can be observed (v. Cohen, 1995; Moore, 1995; Saksena,

1995; Mei, 1995). However, this slight, almost banal, observation should not lead one to

conclude that philosophical reflection has taken the same form across space and time, and

thus elide the distinctions and specificities which give particular attempts at reflection

and self-reflection their unique flavour.3

Modern philosophy4 shares general characteristics with the philosophical activity

of other eras and epochs of human civilisation, but that is not what is interesting in

understanding its essence: what is interesting is its uniqueness, that which gives it its

differential characteristics (in the lingua of Aristotelian logic, what we are interested in is

not its genus but its specific difference).

Modern philosophy emerged during a revolutionary epoch in the history of

Europe, an epoch defined by a transition from the medieval worldview to the modern

worldview (so-called ‘modernity’). This specific development not only defines (at least in

part) the modern world (and especially its ‘view’), but also the self-image of philosophy
3
Of course, many philosophers deny that philosophy has existed or can exist in any culture. For them,

philosophy needs the fulfilment of specific social conditions in order to exist. It’s safe to say, however, that

in making such claims they have a very specific conception of philosophy in mind, and not philosophy in

general (Barry Stroud is one such philosopher: see Stroud, 2001, p. 28. Cf. Cohen, 1995).
4
Although I use the term ‘modern philosophy’ throughout the paper, it should be clear that my critique is

focused on certain specific conception of it (as represented by Graham Pirest, for example); thus, my

claims about modern philosophy should be read this in mind.

3
itself: the self-image that philosophy is debating intensely as the distance from the

‘founding act’ is becoming remote (v. Williams, 2000; Cottingham, 2009; Solomon,

2001).

The revolutionary character of modern philosophy is most manifest in the

writings of its undisputed father, the Frenchman René Descartes,5 who claimed that all

knowledge needs a radical new beginning and new foundations.6 Descartes was writing in

a period (and the same is true of Francis Bacon) when:

. . . familiar teachings of centuries – about religion, politics, and science –

were publicly questioned and sharply disputed across a war-torn Europe. The

Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century and the on-going Catholic

Counter Reformation, together with the proliferation of religious sects and the

foundation of new religious orders, highlighted the fragile intellectual

foundations on which the apparent unity of Christianity had relied.

(Clarke, 2006, p. 69)

This points to the important fact that modern philosophy emerged in a milieu in which

Christianity was still a dominant and ruling force, but was nonetheless finding itself

increasingly on the defensive, and was losing ground to the new emerging forces of

5
Some have suggested two fathers, one for the French side and the other for the English side; the English

one is Francis Bacon (Copleston, 1994, p. 1).

6
For my perspective in this paper, what is of primary importance is the idea of a radical new beginning in

Descartes, and not the specific method (that is, the method of radical doubt) which he uses to accomplish it.

4
rational debate. Philosophy7 was one of those forces, and this helped define the self-

image of philosophy as the revolutionary force without parallel, which corresponds to,

and is attested by, the notion of philosophy as a new beginning (at times an absolute

beginning) put forth by both Descartes and Bacon. “Just like Francis Bacon, his

contemporary in England, Descartes thought that a new beginning had to be made in

human knowledge. The old philosophy of schools could not be reformed: Aristotelianism

had to be rejected in toto” (Matthews, 1989, p. 88, emphasis in the original; v. Copleston,

1994, 1).8 Similarly, Francis Bacon saw in the emergence of the new philosophy and the

new sciences the prospect of an entirely new age, which would be quantitatively and

qualitatively different from its predecessor.

The issue here is not whether they were justified in their assumption that they

were making a complete break with the past; it suffices for my argument to establish that

this is how they saw things. Moreover, as Frederick Copleston aptly notes, they were not

entirely unjustified in this self perception: “Men such as Bacon and Descartes were
7
Of course, philosophy at the time was not separated from science, and the founding fathers especially.

Descartes was a great scientist and mathematician (especially the latter) in his own right, and had a crucial

impact on the early development and orientation of Sir Isaac Newton’s thought. This also partially explains

mainstream philosophy’s partiality towards science.

8
Hence Descartes’ prejudice against ‘preconceived opinions’ (praejudicia) (Cottingham, 1998a, 8; cf.

Gadamer, 2004 [1975], pp. 276-277). For the theme of an absolute new beginning one should of course

consult Descartes’ Discourse on Method (see Descartes, 1985, pp. 111-151). Descartes often couches his

argument in terms of not relying on others’ opinions, and thinking through the matter for oneself, and he

claims that common sense is often a better guide than scholarly tomes. This can legitimately be taken as an

expression of modern individual self-determination, but, more crucially, Descartes is trying to establish a

new tradition, a new common sense (as opposed to the dominant but receding tradition and idea of common

sense).

5
doubtless unaware of the extent to which their minds were influenced by former ways of

thought; but their consciousness of standing at the threshold of a new era is not

unjustified” (Copleston, 1994, p. 10).

Thus, modern philosophy began its life as part of a revolutionary movement that

heralded a new age, different from the one it was aiming to replace. Furthermore, it

started its life in an environment in which it was a minority view, albeit one which was

growing.9 These two facts make it natural that the critique10 of dominant worldviews11

(medieval civilisation and its remnants in this instance) became the main vocation of

modern philosophy and part and parcel of its self-image – not critique in general, as in

the critique that must accompany any philosophical reflection, but a specific conception

of critique, which characterises (and understands) itself as limitless and absolute. The

great German philosopher Immanuel Kant famously articulated this notion when he

wrote:

Our age is the genuine age of criticism, to which everything must submit.

Religion through its holiness and legislation through its majesty commonly

seek to exempt themselves from it. But in this way they excite a just

suspicion against themselves, and cannot lay claim to that unfeigned respect
9
It is interesting to note that almost none of the founders of modern philosophy were professional

philosophers based in universities (only Kant, who is a much later author), and almost all of them wrote in

the vernacular and not in Latin, the scholarly language of the day (Copleston, 1994, p. 5). Descartes and

Bacon did both write in Latin, and also in French and English respectively. Locke and Hume wrote all their

major works in English; subsequently, Kant wrote mainly in German.

10
In this paper I use the terms ‘critique’ and ‘criticism’ interchangeably.
11
Be they actually dominant or imagined to be so.

6
 that reason grants only to that which has been able to withstand its free and

public examination.

(Kant, 1999, p. A xii n, emphasis in the original)

Note here that it is reason which “grants” the sought-after “unfeigned respect” – reason is

the sole authority which decides which other authorities deserve respect, and to what

extent. On the other hand, although we find similar requirements for reason elaborated on

later in the Critique (A 738-B 766), it’s clear that in order to gain respect reason doesn’t

need to (shouldn’t) submit to any other authority but itself; reason, in the Kantian

conception, is self-justificatory in a way in which no other faculty or authority is.

What is of further interest (from our perspective) in this paper is Kant’s use of the

universal quantifier to determine the range of criticism (‘everything’). There are no

exceptions; the critique is total.12 True, Kant was writing in an age considerably different

from that of Descartes and Bacon – if not already the Age of Enlightenment, it was at

least much nearer to it than that of Descartes and Bacon. Here is how Kant himself saw

things:

If it is now asked whether we live in an enlightened age, the answer is: No,

but we do live in an age of enlightenment. As matters now stand, a good deal

more is required for people on the whole to be in the position, or even able to

12
Critique is total, but this totality doesn’t necessarily imply a wholesale critique (that is, a critique of

everything at once) – it can be carried out piecemeal. Thus the totality of critique in the sense used here

shouldn’t be confused with ‘wholesale’ critique; a total critique can take either piecemeal or wholesale

routes (more on this in the main body text, below).

7
 be put in the position, of using their own understanding confidently and well

in religious matters, without another’s guidance. But we do have distinct

intimations that the field is now being opened for them to work freely in this

direction and the hindrances to universal enlightenment or to humankind’s

emergence from its self-incurred tutelage are gradually becoming fewer.

(Kant, 1999, p. 21, emphasis in the original; translation slightly amended)

And here we can see that the self-conception of philosophy has already started to become

detached from the ‘founding act’ (as something which is universal irrespective of space

and time).

A word or two must be said about Kant’s notion of critique and its relation to that

of Descartes. Kant’s enterprise is clearly very different from that of Descartes in many

respects, and not only in the fact that Kant was living much nearer to the actual Age of

Enlightenment than Descartes. Kant, crucially, doesn’t share Descartes’ commitment to

the methodic doubt as a way to establish absolute and certain foundations of knowledge.13

He doesn’t share Descartes’ search for absolute certainty either (in this he is much closer

to Nietzsche than to Descartes);14 Kant instinctively realises that the demise of the

medieval Christian world also meant the demise of the idea of absolute certainty, and as a

13
On Descartes’ methodic doubt and its revolutionary character see Williams, 1998, pp. 28-49.
14
Kant – as is well known – does claim apodictic certainty for his system (see for example Kuehn, 2006,

especially p. 655), but such a claim is limited to cognitive knowledge and its conditions, and does not

encompass reason and its territory as a whole. There is a vast grey area outside this, which will always

remain as long as we are humans. In this, Kant is much closer to John Locke than to Descartes, although

comparatively speaking John Locke is more agnostic than Kant.

8
true believer in reason he was willing to sacrifice certainty as a price for believing in

reason and reason alone, and believing in it in its own terms.

Kant also differs from Descartes in his rejection of presuppositionless knowledge;

for Kant, belief in reason is not presuppositionless (although he does think that reason

must justify its presuppositions in its own manner if it’s to retain its authority). With

these qualifications, Kant retains Descartes’ notion of absolute critique in the following

substantial sense: every authority and every source of knowledge must justify itself on

the altar of reason in order to deserve consideration and legitimacy, and there is no

authority which has a right to compete with the authority of reason. Kant’s oft-talked

about ‘humility’ is not about this point at all; he doesn’t concede anything as far as the

absolute authority of reason is concerned. His humility is related, rather, to another point.

What he does concede is that in order to retain its authority, reason has to justify it, even

if in its own terms, and that this justification cannot be based on presuppositionless15 and

absolute grounds, but is an ongoing project.16 His humility pertains to the fact that his

positive estimate of the powers of reason in certain aspects is much weaker than that of

Descartes.

Thus, Kant’s notion of critique is not aimed at absolute certainty, and it doesn’t

arise from scepticism. The attitude of questioning is to be differentiated from scepticism.

15
Thus critique can be total (in its relation to external worldviews) without being presuppositionless

(internally) as long as the presuppositions are justified (internally). Also, total critique is not necessarily

opposed to piecemeal critique (a critique can be total in its intentions but piecemeal in its execution; or,

alternatively, it can be total externally but piecemeal internally). For a critique to be total (critique of

anything/everything) it only needs to hold that in principle everything is amenable to critique.

16
“The construction of reason is to be seen as process rather than product, as practices of connection and

integration rather than as once and for all laying foundations” (O’Neill, 1992, p. 292, also p. 303).

9
The attitude of questioning is aimed at alien17 authorities – the authorities that are not

vindicated by reason. Reason is absolute, but not in the sense of being presuppositionless:

it is only absolute in the sense that every authority must justify itself in front of it in order

to be considered a legitimate authority (be it a theoretical or practical authority). Again,

reason itself needs vindication, but in its own terms, while everything else be justified in

reason’s terms. As Kant puts it:

This is evidently the effect not of the thoughtlessness of our age [i.e., the Age

of Enlightenment or age of criticism], but of its ripened power of judgment,

which will no longer be put off with illusory knowledge, and which demands

that reason take on anew the most difficult of all its tasks, namely, that of

self-knowledge, and to institute a court of justice, by which reason may

secure its rightful claims while dismissing all its groundless pretensions, and

17
For Kant, the ‘essence’ of reason is freedom: “[t]he very existence of reason depends upon … freedom”

(Kant, 1999, p. A738/B766). The authorities which rely on coercion or dictatorial powers (such as God,

Church, State, religion, nature, etc.), whose dictates are ‘givens’ that cannot be questioned, are termed by

Kant ‘alien’ authorities because their nature is alien to the essence of reason, i.e., freedom. Kant also terms

these authorities arbitrary because, even in principle, their dictates cannot be shared by everyone (the

Christian Church’s commands make sense only to its devotees, for example); reason’s dictates are at least

in principle sharable by everyone. Obviously, this argument is valid only if Kant is working here with a

very thin conception of reason, which is the common property of all (mature) humans. In my opinion,

however, Kant’s argument fails precisely because he presupposes a very substantive conception of reason

that hinges on and presumes the notion of autonomy (self determination). (My interpretation here is heavily

indebted to O’Neill, 1992, p. 293 and passim, though O’Neill doesn’t make the objection I allude to at the

end; also, see her other seminal works, referenced below in the text. Cf. Schneewind, 1998, pp. 483-507).

10
 this not by mere decrees but according to its own eternal and unchangeable

laws; and this court is none other than the critique of pure reason itself.

(Kant, 1991, pp. A xi-xii, emphasis in the original)

While everything else is answerable to reason and its authority, reason is answerable only

to itself.

Hence, Kant differs from Descartes not in delegetimising all authorities, which

are in potential or actual competition with reason, but in determining how to justify the

rational enterprise and how to build the edifice of reason once the negative work has been

performed. Here we can see that Kant clearly comes to differentiate between what is

revolutionary and what is conservative in the modern philosophical enterprise. The

negative critique (critique of competing (alien) authorities) is absolute and revolutionary,

while the positive enterprise is conservative (and constructive).18

Kant’s notion of critique is much more complex than can be fully explored here,

but it can be claimed with some justification that his notion of philosophy as the

custodian of reason, as the critique of ‘everything’, has remained. This is clearly evident

in a recent attempt at delimiting the essence (specific difference) of philosophy by a well-

known and well-respected contemporary philosopher and logician, Graham Priest. The

following two passages are pertinent to our discussion:

What distinguishes the role of criticism in philosophy is, I think, precisely

that there is nothing that may not be challenged. Anything is a fit topic for

18
For an elaboration on these points, see the seminal works of Onora O’Neill (1989, 1992, 2004).

11
 critical scrutiny and potential rejection, including . . . even the efficacy of

critical reasoning itself.

(Priest, 2006, p. 201, emphasis in the original)

I suggest, then, that philosophy is precisely that intellectual inquiry in which

anything is open to critical challenge and scrutiny.

(Ibid., p. 202, emphasis in the original)

As a good logician, Priest qualifies his claims carefully: he says he does not mean to

suggest that every philosophy (or philosopher) actually criticises anything/everything;19

he is only claiming that if they wanted to they could do so. Philosophers qua philosophers

and philosophy qua philosophy can potentially criticise everything and anything; nothing

is sacrosanct. Priest considers the counterexample of medieval philosophers, who

typically did not question the claim that God exists, and insists that this does not violate

their status as philosophers because if they had wanted to question the existence of God

“they could have done so” (p. 201)! This is a bizarre example, and a poor one at that.

Barring physical impossibility, and barring logical impossibility, anyone could

potentially do anything. What is special about philosophy in that? Such a thin conception

of potentiality dilutes the notion of criticism to such an extent that it becomes trivial.

Priest’s dilemma here corresponds to the one faced by modern political theorists,

who, in order to make room for a diversity of beliefs, have put forth the idea of ‘reasons

that all can accept’ as the final arbitrator of disputes in the political arena. James Bohman

19
Henceforth, where possible, I shall refer to criticism of anything/everything simply as absolute critique or

absolute criticisms.

12
and Henry Richardson (2009) have justifiably taken them to task by pressing them to

come up with an example of reasons that a person could not accept. As they write:

To be sure, there are plenty of reasons that, as it may be, a person does not

accept. Perhaps not caring about flowers, you do not take the presence of

famous orchid garden to be a reason to visit Fiji. With a sufficient effort of

imagination and “enlarged thinking”, however, surely you could come to

accept that as a reason to go there. That is an empirical possibility.

(p. 257, emphasis in the original)

They conclude: “[t]he important question, for our purposes, is really whether it is ever the

case that a reason that one single person intelligibly accepts is not also that could be

intelligibly accepted by each and every person” (p. 258). Surely the answer should be a

resounding ‘no’. With such a thin conception of potentiality, if one person can accept

something, then surely anyone else should (in principle) be able to do so. In a similar

vein, like his modern counterpart, the medieval philosopher qua philosopher (and I would

say qua human being) could surely (in principle) have rejected or doubted the existence

of God (and some actually did).20 The dilemma faced by Priest is that if he works with a

thin conception of the possibility of criticism, this dilutes the uniqueness of the

20
In both the Christian and Islamic discourses in the Middle Ages one occasionally finds the names of

authors who questioned the idea of God altogether. In general, the discussion of the arguments for the proof

of the existence of God by Christian and Islamic philosophers of the Middle Ages on their own are

sufficient to establish that such a group of people existed, even though, naturally enough (and consistent

with my theory) their names have largely gone unmentioned in the dominant discourses of the age.

13
philosophy he wants to establish. If he works with a robust conception of the possibility

of criticism (however defined), then he cannot claim that there was equal (or near equal)

possibility of denying the existence of God in medieval philosophy qua philosophy, as in

modern philosophy (and in fact in modern philosophy it is the exact opposite: it is

becoming increasingly difficult to be a robust theist doing philosophy in our time). One

could avoid this dilemma by either denying that medieval philosophy, by Priest’s lights,

was really a philosophy (one could claim that it was, rather, a theology in disguise).21

Perhaps Priest would not like to take this route because he is eager to preserve the

universality of philosophy. Or, one can take the route of distinguishing between

philosophy in general and the specific forms it takes, in which case Priest’s description

would fit modern philosophy (especially its self-image) but not philosophy as such.

I have so far differentiated between philosophy as such and the specific forms it

takes, and I would argue that modern philosophy (at least its self-conception) as an

absolute critique22 is one conception of philosophy among many, and it is the product of

the specific circumstances in which modern philosophy emerged as a revolutionary force

in the 16th and 17th centuries in Western Europe. This specific form cannot be

universalised without confusing philosophy in general with one of the specific forms it

(historically) took. Insistence on accepting a self-conception of modern philosophy as the

philosophy, I would argue, is against the spirit of philosophy itself (and against the spirit
21
According to a different conception of philosophy than Priest’s, such a dilemma would not necessarily

arise. Thus, one can define philosophy as a conceptual analysis at the highest level of generality and

abstraction: in which case, one can find much to admire in medieval philosophy despite the many

substantive claims about reality, which we no longer find persuasive.

22
As should be clear from the body text as a whole, I am not claiming that Priest’s conception of modern

philosophy is a majority view in today’s mainstream philosophy. In fact, I believe it is not.

14
of reflection and critique in general). It would be tantamount to closing off the openings

for thinking, because one of the things crucial for thought and its prosperity is to always

keep open alternatives – the avenues of thinking differently. Difference is crucial not for

its own sake but because it is our only panacea against the tyranny of the same. As

Michael Foucault puts it:

But then, what is philosophy today – philosophical activity, I mean – if it is

not the critical work of thought on itself? And if it does not consist in the

endeavour of knowing how and to what extent it might be possible to think

differently, rather than legitimating what is already known? There is always

something ludicrous in philosophical discourse when it tries, from the

outside, to dictate to others, to tell them where their truth is and how to find

it, or when it presumes to give them naively positivistic instruction. But it is

its right to explore what might be changed, in its own thought, through the

practice of a knowledge that is foreign to it. The “essay” – which should be

understood as the test by means of which one modifies oneself through the

play of truth and not as the simplistic appropriation of others for the purpose

of communication – is the living body of philosophy, at least if we assume

that philosophy is still what it was in times past, i.e., an “ascesis”, an exercise

of the self, in thought.

(Foucault, 1992, pp. 8-9)23

23
I have used here the modified translation by Professor Clare O’Farrell, found on her website

http://www.michel-foucault.com/quote/2001q.html [accessed on 27 November 2010].

15
This is not to claim that difference is value in itself; it is only to say that without the

possibility of real alternatives there is no thinking. Thus, when we press and question a

specific philosophy which claims to be universal,24 we do so in the interest of thinking,

reflection, and critique – in sum, in the interest of philosophy itself.

But thinking also needs particularity, specificity, and situatedness within

particular traditions in order to prosper. By denying its own specificity,25 its own

situatedness, modern philosophy26 also denies the very source of its own life because

there is no thinking without thinking in a particular space and time. Thinking transcends

particularity only by locating itself surely and securely within its own particularity (and

by self-consciously recognising this). Thus, it is in the interest of thinking that we expose

the fallacy of modern philosophy’s claim to universality (which involves the denial of its

own particularity). It is also in the interest of thinking itself that we defend various

minority traditions of thinking against the imperialistic onslaught of modern philosophy. 27

24
The philosophy which in so doing denies (hides from) and forgets its specific origins. Of course, it’s

possible to universalise such a philosophy, but that’s another matter. Also, my objection is not to the

‘claim’ to universality; my contention is, rather, that the claim is false.

25
Again, my problem with the conception of modern philosophy in question is not its claim to universality

as such, but its specific claim that it’s critical in a way in which other traditions (including philosophical

traditions) are not. Basically, in my opinion, the claim to absolute critique (taken on face value and without

explanation provided in the text) is self-contradictory (or at least incoherent).

26
As should be clear from the paper overall, I don’t make any claims about modern philosophy as a whole;

my argument is only against certain interpretations of what modern philosophy is, as exemplified by the

specific authors I discuss in the text.

27
Every critique is self-interested. Philosophy teaches us self-reflection and enhances our powers of

reflection, imagination, and alternative thinking, but how we use those powers is not determined by

philosophy, it’s determined by us, our interests, and the wider social conditions.

16
 The mistake behind the claim that philosophy is absolute critique is to ignore two

distinct but interrelated aspects of criticism. Let us call them internal (positive) criticism

and negative (external) criticism respectively. Internal criticism is a form of self-criticism

in which one critiques one’s own ideas or one’s own world view (at the level of the

system).28 In external criticism, on the other hand, one criticises another worldview at the

level of individual ideas, or at the system level. Internal criticism can also either be an

immanent criticism where one acts and argues “within the framework of [her] own

ideas”, or it can be carried out as “the philosophical activity of reflecting on those ideas at

a more general level and trying to make sense of them” (Williams, 2000, p. 491). The

latter activity still remains within the ambit of immanent criticism as long as this ‘making

sense of’ stops at the points which are essential to our view (without which our view

would lose its rationale and collapse as a coherent and self-evident whole for us). If we

transit to that latter option, internal criticism loses its immanent status and becomes a

transcendent29 criticism, and no longer remains internal; it transforms itself into a species

of external criticism, since now we’re reflecting on our fundamental ideas in a neutral or

impartial way (as if from the viewpoint of someone outside our worldview – we become

28
There is also a possibility for internal critique of worldviews other than our own – for example,

empathising with them to such an extent that we internalise them, although whether such identification is

possible is controversial.
29
Kant uses ‘transcendent’ to refer to “objects (Objects) that cannot be encountered in … experience”

(quoted in Kant, 1999, p. 717 n6; original quote is from Kant’s gesammelte Schriften, edited by the Royal

Prussian (later German) Academy of Sciences (Berlin: Georg Reiner, later Walter de Gruyter & Co.,

1900- ), vol. 18, p. 10 ). My use of ‘transcendent’ here is different from that of Kant, and merely alludes to

the fact that in transcendent criticism, relation of immanence with the object of criticism is totally severed.

17
strangers to our own view), in the same way in which we criticise a view which is

external to our view.

To put this categorisation in the context of the birth of modern philosophy: as we

have seen, its self conception as absolute criticism emerged at the particular juncture of

history when philosophy (and her allies) was a minority activity pitted against the still-

dominant but receding and retreating worldview that had prevailed in Europe since the

Middle Ages (whether it goes under the name of feudalism, or Christendom, or Christian

civilisation). At the time, philosophy naturally criticised everything/anything it could lay

its hand on precisely because it was a minority view aiming to destroy and overcome the

prevalent worldview. But the same cannot be true today, when modern philosophy (and

her allies) is without doubt a dominant force (although this obviously does not imply that

they have absolute power).30 Even today, modern philosophy is at its best when it takes

aim at the remnants of the old forces. But it is a totally different ballgame when

philosophy indulges in positive criticism. Self-criticism when it is transcendent criticism

(that is, a species of external criticism) is always much harder than criticising others, and

in this, modern philosophy is no different than other traditions. As Bernard Williams,

one of the most outstanding and perceptive of post-war British philosophers, writes:

History presents alternatives only in terms of a wider ‘us’: it presents

alternative ways, that is to say various ways, in which human beings have

lived and hence can live. Indeed, in those terms we may be able to conceive,

30
For my argument here I don’t need to presume that philosophy itself is a dominant force in today’s

world; it’s sufficient to suppose that the worldview presupposed by the modern philosophical enterprise is

dominant today.

18
 if only schematically and with difficulty, other ways in which human beings

might live in the future. But that is not the point. What in this connection

seem to be simply there, to carry no alternatives with them, are elements of

our ethical and political outlook, and in those terms there are no alternatives

for us. Those elements are indeed unhintergehbar . . . we can identify with

the process that led to our outlook because we can identify with its outcome.

But we cannot in our thought go beyond our outlook into the future and

remain identified with the result: that is to say, we cannot overcome our

outlook.

(Williams, 2000, p. 494, emphasis in the original)

The point is not that we cannot factually overcome our outlook. That would be

empirically wrong; people overcome their outlooks all the time (even if such people are

essentially always a minority in non-revolutionary or ‘normal’ times).31 Moreover, not

only can individuals factually overcome their outlook, civilisations can transform

themselves entirely into radically different ones (something comparable to what

happened in the transformation of medieval civilisation into modern Western

civilisation).

The latter, however, is much rarer: civilisational shifts don’t occur everyday.

What Williams is claiming is that in normal circumstances (be it on an individual level or

on a civilisational level), fundamental precepts of a worldview are immune from criticism

31
Straightforward examples of this are conversions: people converting from one religion to another,

atheists becoming religious, religious people becoming non-religious, secular, or atheists, and so on.

19
in a way in which non-fundamental precepts or precepts of another system are not.32 It’s

only in times of crisis (the ‘crisis of explanation’, as Williams calls it) that fundamental

precepts become amenable to criticism.33 But the crisis of explanation itself can be

divided into two types: the crisis which can be resolved by internal revisions without any

fundamental changes, and the crisis which cannot be resolved without revising (or giving

32
This essentially corresponds to Quine’s view about the types of statements which can be revised easily

(without much disturbance to the system as a whole in which they are embedded), and the types of

statements that cannot be so revised (without drastic changes in the system as a whole) (see Quine, 1961,

pp. 20-46). For Quine, some beliefs are more fundamental or important than others, in the sense that

revising or giving them up would involve many more far-reaching changes elsewhere in our belief system

in order to maintain their coherence. But for Quine this is a continuum – that is, a matter of degree – and

even at the most fundamental area of the continuum there are no beliefs that are so fundamental that they

are immune to potential revision. One group that Quine has in his sights are the empiricists/positivists who

thought you could start with foundations of sense data of which you were absolutely certain, and then build

up all knowledge from those foundations (akin to the way that Descartes thought you could build up

knowledge, although his foundation was of course different from the empiricists’ sense data). There is,

however, no fundamental difference between Quine’s and my position here; in my opinion, one does not

need to subscribe to foundationalism in order to preserve Williams’ distinction between ‘essential’ and

‘non-essential’ elements of a worldview. Quine’s distinction between elements which require wide-ranging

adjustments if rejected, and elements which do not require wide-ranging changes, will suffice. Thus, when

Williams talks about ‘essential elements of our worldview’, I take him to mean those elements the rejection

of which would require wide-ranging adjustments to our worldview.

33
Michel Foucault explains the same point in his distinction between the ‘history of ideas’ and the ‘history

of thought’: “I would like to distinguish between the ‘history of ideas’ and the ‘history of thought’. Most of

the time a historian of ideas tries to determine when a specific concept appears, and this moment is often

identified by the appearance of a new word. But what I am attempting to do as a historian of thought is

something different. I am trying to analyze the way institutions, practices, habits, and behavior become a

20
up) some or all of our fundamental precepts. If most of the fundamental precepts of our

worldview become suspect, or lose their hold on us, then the crisis of explanation can be

termed a fundamental crisis.

There are two possible ways to overcome a fundamental crisis. The civilisation

concerned can reinvigorate/rejuvenate itself without giving up any of the fundamental

precepts – this can happen, for example, by giving a new rationale or new justification to

the old ideas – or it becomes unable to hold on to the old ideas, in which case it

ultimately gives way to a new set of fundamental precepts and transforms itself into a

new civilisation (there are, of course, many other options, like extinction or assimilation

into another dominant civilisation, a prospect faced by many civilisations today vis-à-vis

the dominant modern Western civilisation). The transformation into a new civilisation,

however, doesn’t mean that the civilisation totally abandons its erstwhile ideas – what’s

required is only that the fundamental precepts are rejected and/or their internal

configuration is changed, and, with that in place, previous ideas can still retain their role,

albeit with changed emphases, reinterpretations, and reconfigurations (all of these are

empirical points).34 Thus, the point is not that we can’t (may not) potentially or actually

problem for people who behave in specific sorts of ways, who have certain types of habits, who engage in

certain kinds of practices, and who put to work specific kinds of institutions. . . . The history of thought is

the analysis of the way an unproblematic field of experience, or a set of practices which were accepted

without question, which were familiar and out of discussion, becomes a problem, raises discussion and

debate, incites new reactions, and induces a crisis in the previously silent behavior, habits, practices, and

institutions” (Foucault, 2001, p. 74). What Foucault calls here ‘problematisation’ is the same thing that

Williams calls ‘crisis of explanation’.

34
Thus, both Descartes and Kant make good use of the concept of God in their positive system once the act

of demolition is over, but their conception of God and its role in the worldview they erect is fundamentally

21
doubt the essentials of our worldview; the point is, rather, that the probability of it is very

low as long as a worldview is dominant.35 The insight behind all this is that every

civilisation creates an intellectual climate (an intellectual milieu) 36 in which certain things

seem obvious, self-evident, and more probable; and certain other things less so.37 In the

medieval Christian civilisation, the belief in God and its particular Christian

interpretation was a ‘natural’ thought to occur, and thinking against it was normatively

and factually difficult and improbable, but in the age of crisis (roughly from the 16th to

the 19th centuries) such doubts became easier, and eventually lead to the collapse of

medieval Christian civilisation as a whole. Muslim civilisation faced the same dilemma,

with the advent of the age of colonialism, and still is in a transitional phase. The same

rule applies to modern Western civilisation, including its philosophical schools, but since

it’s so overwhelmingly dominant today, not only culturally, but economically and

technologically, this situation is hard to see. Thus Williams’ point, as I see it, is not an

argument for relativism, but about the way human rationality works.38

different from that in the Christian civilisation of the Middle Ages. Kant’s idea of autonomy is a rejection

of the idea of servitude and complete submission to God (found in classical Judaism, medieval Christianity,

and Kant’s own days in Pietism) (for perceptive remarks see Kuehn, 2001, pp. 53-54). It’s beside the point

to say that Descartes or Kant don’t reject the idea of God altogether; what really matters is their conception

of God, and that’s no doubt essentially different from the one predominant in the Middle Ages).
35
This is almost a tautological claim, but its significance is often not fully realised.
36
See Taylor (2007, pp. 2-4 and 25-28) on this point.
37
In the beautiful words of Paul Feyerabend: “ . . . argument works only on people who have been properly

prepared” (Feyerabend, 1987, p. 299).

38
Hence I do not controvert truth claims made by modern civilisation. I only controvert its claim about its

critical ethos.

22
 It might be claimed at this point that the fundamental difference between modern

philosophy and the civilisation it defends (and is associated with) is that, whereas in

Christian or Jewish civilisations (for example) it’s normatively prohibited to critique their

fundamental precepts (“[i]n religion one is explicitly not allowed to question certain

things” – Priest, 2006, p. 201), in modern philosophy (and, in the case of Priest, in

philosophy as such), criticism of everything is normatively justified even if the factual

constraints determine the actual possibility and extent of such criticisms. The point is

powerful, but only on the surface. If we look at the actual philosophical practice of, say,

Descartes or Kant (and their descendants), we realise that although philosophy (and

modern civilisation in general) claims that it’s normatively permissible to criticise any of

its precepts, in actual fact the odds of this happening are the same as criticising God in a

Christian, Islamic, or Jewish civilisation. It might be normatively permissible to raise

fundamental questions about reason, autonomy,39 etc., but in actual practice it’s almost

always a normal criticism (internal criticism), and never a fundamental critique. The

point will only be proven if we see fundamental critiques of reason or autonomy within

modern philosophy and worldview as a normal practice (and I submit this is not only not

the case but conceptually speaking can not be the case).

A word or two must also be said about the distinction between piecemeal

criticism and wholesale criticism. It might be objected that there is an ambiguity here that

39
Just think of the rage and disgust poor fundamentalism (a term never properly defined and arbitrarily

used) elicits at all intellectual levels. The reason is because fundamentalism presents a view of religion that

supposedly transcends the well-defined limits of the Enlightenment tolerance of religion (see Habermas,

2006, pp. 3-25, especially pp. 10-11; cf. Rawls, 1996, pp. 64ff. and passim). The list of gag rules keeps

piling up.

23
I’ve overlooked in my explication of Williams’ quote, above. It might be claimed that

Williams (or I on his behalf) has failed to acknowledge ambiguity in his (or his and my)

position. It is one thing to say that you cannot question everything all at once, and that all

questioning has to be done from a fixed point or outlook that we take for granted, but it is

another thing to say that there are some things that we cannot ever question, and that

there are some fixed points or aspects of our outlook that we must always take for

granted. The first could be true, while the second false. Going back to the Neurath/Quine

analogy of the boat, our critic might add that it is one thing to say that you cannot rebuild

all the bits of the boat all at once. If you are going to, e.g., rebuild or alter the left side of

the boat, then for those purposes you have to take the right side of the boat as a given or

fixed point in order to get anything done. But it would be quite another thing to say that

there are some bits of the boat that cannot ever be changed or rebuilt: the right side of the

boat could be altered or changed too.40 But the criticism misses the point here. For my

argument, the distinction between peicemeal and wholesale criticism is irrelevant. To

start with, the boat analogy leaves many other options out of view; e.g., it might be the

case that the boat is so rotten that there is no option for repairing at all – piecemeal or

otherwise. In such cases the better option might be to jump to another available boat. But,

aside from this, the more fundamental point is whether a criticism is fundamental or not,

not whether it’s piecemeal or wholesale. A similar point applies to a crisis of explanation,

which is fundamental if it requires abandoning our fundamental precepts; it’s only of

secondary concern whether such abandonment is piecemeal or a wholesale.41 A wholesale

40
Thanks to John Campbell for pressing me to clarify these points.
41
Generally speaking, in civilisational transformations, piecemeal changes occur over long stretches of

time and are followed by the event of wholesale transformation, the so-called ‘revolutionary event’. In this

24
critique can be non-fundamental, for example, when one jettisons her precepts en masse,

but the precepts involved don’t belong to the core of her worldview; or, a piecemeal

critique can be fundamental when it progresses in piecemeal fashion, but pertains to the

core of our worldview. Thus, the issue here is not whether criticism is piecemeal or

wholesale – the issue is rather whether the critique pertains to fundamentals of our

worldview or not.

My claim in this paper is simply that modern philosophy is no different to any

other worldview in the dynamics of change sketched above. Modern philosophy, which

has the reputation of throwing everything upside down, taking nothing as sacrosanct,

apparently has its own idols in front of which it trembles lest it utter any unwarranted

words. I am not talking about the fringes here; I am thinking of mainstream modern

philosophy. In modern philosophy one would search in vain for any fundamental critique

of the notions of autonomy, democracy, secularism, and science.42 There are powerful

internal critiques, internal debates, and rivalries regarding different interpretations of

these concepts, but no fundamental critiques in the sense of the ‘fundamental’ elaborated

reading, piecemeal changes and wholesale changes are not contradictory (rather, they are complementary).
42
I think philosophers are justified in taking science seriously. What is missing is the distance from science

(and a certain irreverence towards it) which should be natural for a view which prides itself on its open-

ended and critical character. Thus, for example, I would like to see more persistent problematisation of

‘science’ as a generic word or concept (what we should take seriously are ‘facts’ and not science as such;

there is also the sort of rubbish which goes along with the ‘factual’ element in discourse about science).

The same point goes for the other concepts mentioned above. It should be added here that I presume the

veracity of the point made in the text without any real argument; if I’m wrong in this assumption, my

argument in this paper will collapse.

25
above. The typical response is expressed with atypical honesty and frankness by Burt

Dreben (referring to John Rawls’ political liberalism):

What Rawls is saying is that there is in a constitutional liberal democracy a

tradition of thought which it is our job to explore and see whether it can be

made coherent and consistent. . . . We are not arguing for such a society. We

take for granted that today only a fool would not want to live in such a

society. . . . If one cannot see the benefits of living in a liberal constitutional

democracy, if one does not see the virtue of that ideal, then I do not know

how to convince him. To be perfectly blunt, sometimes I am asked, when I go

around speaking for Rawls, What do you say to an Adolf Hitler? The answer

is [nothing]. You shoot him. You do not try to reason with him. Reason has

no bearing on this question. So I do not want to discuss it.

(Dreben, 2003, pp. 328-329)43

A typical medieval philosopher would no doubt have held the same sentiments

about an atheist, a diehard royalist in the early modern age would have harboured similar

views about a democrat, and so on. What makes political philosophy (for example)

remotely special in this regard? It is only modern philosophy’s self-conception as

absolute critique that makes the otherwise understandable views of Williams and Dreben

43
Lest anyone think that these are isolated views of the characteristically combative Dreben, and not those

of Rawls, one should be reminded that Rawls himself likens the views that reject constitutional democracy

to war and disease: he talks about “the practical task of containing them” as they are “war and disease”

(Rawls, 1996, pp. 64 n.19, also pp. 64ff.). But one does not just contain diseases, one tries to eradicate

them!

26
(however atrociously expressed by the latter) so bizarre. Again, I am not advocating any

form of relativism and its cogency here. Recall that I have not denied the universality of

philosophy as such; I am only disputing the specific self-understanding of modern

philosophy as absolute critique.44 What the above discussion makes clear is that modern

philosophy’s claim to be an absolute critique is only true when it is engaged in external

(negative) criticism; normally it is not true when it engages in internal criticism,

especially when this internal criticism involves the fundamentals of the modern

worldview.

I have argued above (persuasively I hope) that Priest’s notion of philosophy as

absolute critique is mistaken; it should rather be taken as a self-conception of modern

philosophy only. I have argued further that modern philosophy’s self-conception as

absolute critique mostly applies to its criticism of external forces, and not to the

fundamentals of its own worldview. When it comes to this it is as meek as any other

enterprise in modern society (and at times even more so because of the guilty

consciousness that stems from the explicit claim of its own status as absolute criticism).

Having accomplished the above, it is easy to summarily dispose of three corollaries that

Priest derives from his notion of philosophy as absolute critique, viz: a) philosophy (read

‘modern philosophy’) is subversive; b) it is unsettling for students; c) it is universal in its

import. I will briefly examine all these claims (and reject them as they stand – the

rejection emanates from my discussion in the paper up to this point).

44
So, those philosophers who have a different conception of philosophy or modern philosophy are not my

targets here. Although not all modern philosophers theorise about what modern philosophy is (in fact they

rarely do), they might still have the same conception of philosophy or modern philosophy criticised here.

27
Subversiveness of philosophy. Modern philosophy indeed claims to be subversive; but it

is subversive only when it critiques external forces (forces that are still lingering on from

the ‘dark ages’, in its view). When it comes to its own internal matters, philosophy is not

only not subversive, but is in fact highly conservative in the original sense of the word

(the contemporary supporters of the American Republican Party do not have exclusive

copyright on the term). It is conservative in the sense that it is the custodian of the

worldview and civilisation that replaced the medieval Christian civilisation of Europe,

and which then imposed itself (through whatever means) on almost the entire world.45

There are, naturally, differences of interpretation and emphasis among its different foci,

but generally speaking it is a civilisation based on a strong belief in secularism,

constitutional democracy, human rights, capitalism,46 and science. There are internal

debates about these fundamentals within philosophy, but there is no dispute whatsoever

about their desirability and the need to defend them singlehandedly. Philosophy today is

part of a well-established, global university system;47 most philosophy departments

around the world follow the same sorts of topics, subjects, authors, and debates.

45
My analysis here and below is purely functional; I don’t assume that philosophers or philosophy do any

of this consciously. This should exclude any suspicion of a ‘conspiracy theory’ approach.
46
The bankruptcy of the so-called critical and innovative powers of modern thinking becomes starkly clear

when one realises that, despite financial crises and pending environmental disaster, modern thinking

(including philosophical thinking) has not gone beyond the dichotomy of capitalism and socialism (both

part of Enlightenment thinking – one mainstream, the other maverick), and the most innovative one gets is

to advocate a middle ground between the two!

47
For the influence (economic, cultural, and social) of the university (and college) system – especially the

humanities and social sciences – in America (the most advanced capitalist country), for example, see Gross,

2008, pp. vii-xvii.

28
Philosophers are not wandering outsiders. They write not in vernaculars as such, but in

the official language of the empire (English) or in a few other main languages

(predominantly French and German) which replaced Latin as the official languages of

higher education in Europe during the 16th and 17th centuries and onwards.48 Philosophers

are, relatively speaking, highly paid professionals, and part of the ruling elite (defined

broadly): responsible49 for producing and reproducing the standard discourse about the

self, the other, and the universe, and the relationship between them. Philosophy today has

almost the same role (perhaps combined with journalism and novel (fiction) writing, and

now increasingly popular science writings) that religion played in the Middle Ages.50

Philosophers are at the forefront of defending modern civilisation, and at the battlefront

of science wars, religious wars, evolutionary wars, etc.51 It is a travesty to consider

philosophy as a subversive force in today’s world; it is the prime conservative force

today. In fact, it is the custodian of conservatism, as far as defending the basics of the

prevailing secular capitalist worldview is concerned.52

48
My claims here exclude the Eastern European scene, with which I have only very superficial

acquaintance.
49
‘Responsibility’ construed in functional terms here.
50
As Richard H. Popkin writes: “Seventeenth-century epistemological and religious scepticism has left a

legacy that continues to affect our twentieth-century world. (It would seem that one function of our present

professional philosophers is to act as a new priestcraft, exorcising the sceptical demons as they turn up, day

after day” (Popkin, 1993, pp. 514-515). Note, however, that my construing of a ‘sceptical problem’ is much

broader than that of Popkin, and the quote here should be read in the context of the paper as a whole.
51
Just notice the plethora of books in recent decades defending evolution, science, etc. authored by

philosophers.
52
Again, I don’t make any claim about the actual influence of philosophy today; my claim is primarily

about philosophy’s self-conception and, more fundamentally, its relation to the modern worldview.

29
Philosophy as unsettling subject for students. As a reflective subject, philosophy

questions our assumptions about ourselves, the other, and the universe (for example) –

there is no doubt about that. However, any reflective subject will do this; one can go

through unsettling experiences reading history or physics, depending on the way they are

taught and the way they are received. Where philosophy is the subject that makes

reflection and its possibility its prime concern, it is bound to be more unsettling than any

other subject studied within the modern university. But the unsettling experience Priest is

referring to must be more fundamental than the sort of unsettling experiences I just

mentioned; it is related to his notion of philosophy as absolute critique – hence, it must be

conceived as the absolute unsettling experience. Is philosophy unsettling in the absolute

sense? Perhaps, but principally only for students coming from backgrounds radically

different from the secular modern worldview propagated by modern philosophy; it is not

(typically) unsettling in the absolute sense because it doesn’t challenge students with

background beliefs mostly congruent with the modern worldview. Thus, a believing Jew,

or Muslim, or Christian (to give a straightforward example) will generally feel the force

of the absolutely unsettling nature of philosophy (if she lets herself be pulled by the lure

of philosophy, that is), but a secular, progressive, animal loving, environment-cherishing

Philosophers generally tend to minimise their own influence (in line with their overall victimhood

narrative), but my own impression of philosophy’s influence is that it’s much deeper, especially on the

general humanities, social sciences and, through them, wider culture. This influence is augmented by the

existence of public intellectuals like Jürgen Habermas, Richard Rorty, Michel Foucault, and others. Thanks

to Jürgen Franz for urging me to clarify this point.

30
liberal will be unlikely to experience any such discomfort.53 The reason is obvious from

our discussion in this paper. Modern philosophy is absolute critique only vis-à-vis the

views which are external to its own preferred views; its venom and its cutting sword are

reserved exclusively for the views which are historically challenged by her, and not the

views which are constructively favoured by her (a different sort of critique is applied in

that context).

Philosophy as a universal pursuit. I believe in the universal import of philosophy, so I

would not deny Priest’s claim that philosophy has this quality. But it is also clear from

the context that what Priest is claiming is not the universal import of philosophy as such,

but his specific conception of philosophy as absolute critique. But, as I have shown, this

conception of philosophy is specific to a particular juncture in human history, and,

furthermore, is true only as self-understanding of this specific philosophy, and not of its

reality. In reality, even this specific philosophy is absolute critique only in the limited

facets of its praxis.

Modern philosophy emerged out of a revolutionary period in human history and

as a revolutionary force, but it faces the dilemma that any revolutionary force must face.

Once it is successful, every revolution must abolish any possibility of further revolution

or counter-revolution (recall Kafka: “Every revolution evaporates and leaves behind only

the slime of a new bureaucracy. The chains of tormented mankind are made out of red

tape”. Janouch, 1971, pp. 119-20). Any revolutionary force, once successful, must

53
She would (typically) rather find confirmation of her views (and hence comfort and reassurance) in her

experience with philosophy.

31
become fundamentally a non-revolutionary and conservative force;54 its main purpose

becomes safeguarding the house it has successfully built. Its revolutionary venom

expresses itself mainly in safeguarding its victory against opposing forces. This is

something very natural, and we cannot blame modern philosophy, or any other

revolutionary force, on that account. What we can blame modern philosophy for, though,

is its pretension that even after the victory it remains some sort of a revolutionary

minority pitted against endless powerful enemies that are threatening to engulf it from

every direction. This is just not true.

One of the fundamental problems with Priest’s conception of philosophy is that he

sees philosophy as a permanent revolutionary force (see Priest, 2006, p. 202).55 Thus,

although he admits that there is a difference between normal and revolutionary science, in

fact – following Khun – he claims that “a certain dogmatism is essential to both the

teaching of science and to its progress” (ibid.). On the contrary, philosophy, claims Priest,

is always revolutionary! Priest thinks that “a certain dogmatism” that is essential to

progress in science is not only not essential for philosophy’s progress, but in fact would

undermine the very meaning and existence of philosophy (Priest thinks that when science

is in its revolutionary phases the distinction between philosophy and science becomes

blurred: ibid., p. 202). This stance – that philosophy is a quintessentially revolutionary

54
Even capitalism (or the bourgeois class, to be specific), which was hailed by Karl Marx as a

revolutionary force par excellence, became conservative once it established its hegemony; we have only to

look at its current dilemma, where the system’s imperatives require it to move on from an oil-based

economy, but self-entrenched interests refuse to go along with it. This is something part and parcel of

human nature conjoined with the human condition. For a very perceptive review of the future of capitalism

see Lanchester, 2012, pp. 7-10.

55
In this he is one with Heidegger (see Heidegger, op. cit.).

32
enterprise – is not new to Priest, but one would have hoped that Wittgenstein56 and

countless other philosophers might have educated us out of this nonsense. Alas, this is a

vain hope. There is no end to revolutionary pretensions. Martin Wolfson, writing in 1958,

claimed the following, which succinctly captures the mindset of those who believe

philosophy to be inherently revolutionary:

Philosophical interpretation is inherently a fighting stance for change. This is

why the intellectual life in its true self can be nothing but revolutionary. It is

tragic to the intellectual life when “intellectuals” forget this. Philosophy,

therefore, is a revolutionary enterprise. If philosophy purports not to be, it is

either apologetics or counterrevolutionary.

(Wolfson, 1958, p. 323)

But even old Kant, who made ‘revolution’ central to his philosophical enterprise, knew

that’s not true. As he puts it:

Criticism is not opposed to the dogmatic procedure of reason in its pure

cognition as science (for science must always be dogmatic, i.e., it must prove

its conclusions strictly a priori from secure principles); rather, it is opposed

only to dogmatism, i.e., to the presumption of getting on solely with pure

cognition from (philosophical) concepts according to principles, which reason

has been using for a long time without first inquiring in what way and by

what right it has obtained them. Dogmatism is therefore the dogmatic

56
No wonder Priest has such a low view of Wittgenstein’s work, or at least his conception of philosophy.

33
 procedure of pure reason, without an antecedent critique of its own

capacity.

(Kant, 1999, Bxxxv, emphasis in the original)

Once the initial revolutionary task is accomplished, it’s all back to normal. The

argument of this paper has been that philosophy, like any other human activity, can be

revolutionary, counterrevolutionary, and/or apologetic depending on the time and

conditions. Descartes and Kant were true revolutionaries because they were living in an

age of revolution. But the heirs of Descartes and Kant can’t claim the same, because their

revolution has long-since succeeded, and today they are necessarily apologists of that

system. Again, this not to deny the existence of true revolutionary philosophical

individuals, ideas, and minority traditions, but, firstly, those traditions are by definition

not norms, and, secondly, they don’t belong to the tradition of Descartes and Kant.57

Thus, the idea of philosophy as a permanent revolutionary activity is just a

figment of Priest’s imagination, and an expression of modern philosophy’s propensity for

self-aggrandisement; it does not correspond to reality. Priest’s ambition to become the

Trotsky of philosophy is doomed. Like any other human activity, philosophy has its

normal and revolutionary periods; what is normal is ‘normal’ philosophy, and not a

revolutionary philosophy.58 Like the sciences, and like human civilisations, revolutionary
57
It’s no wonder that works like After Virtue (McIntyre, 2007 [1981]) belong to the Thomistic tradition and

not to the Cartesian or Kantian traditions.

58
It is hardly surprising, then, that those who consider philosophy to be a permanent revolutionary activity

are compelled to continuously hark back to presumed revolutionary periods of their discipline – for

Heidegger it was going back to the Pre-Socratics, for example. It also explains the certain infatuation with

the mythic figure of Socrates, the martyr of philosophy. But, if we take my account as the correct

34
periods in philosophy are exceptional and far apart. The only way philosophers can

maintain the aura of perpetual revolutionary activity for their trade is by falsely claiming

that, even today, they are a minority, often a persecuted minority (even though the

persecution is not as bad as it used to be: it mainly consists of the occasional closure of

philosophy departments, and in the belief that the philosopher kings of our age are not

given their due or share of power, or those in power don’t heed to their advice as often as

they ‘should’). This self-perception of philosophers that they are a permanent minority

comes out in the following quote from a prominent Kantian, Allen Wood:

The obstacle, now as in the eighteenth century, is simply that the world is

ruled by enemies of this enlightened ethos [i.e., the life of reason and self

reflection, in other words life according to philosophical ideals – Ali], and

hence those who in it cannot integrate what Foucault . . . calls the

interpretation then we can accommodate such figures from the past and in the present without making

philosophy into what it is not: that is, a timeless revolutionary force. Compare this with Karsten Harries,

2001, pp. 47-73, who claims that the origin of philosophy lies “in a sense of homelessness”, and that

“[t]hose who are secure in the knowledge of their place have little need for philosophy, just as those who

think themselves at home are not likely to suffer from homesickness” (p. 61). I can agree with Harries on

this if we add two clauses to his definition: a) that it applies in revolutionary times only; b) such philosophy

is not restricted to any particular content. Modern philosophy and its proponents felt a sense of

‘homelessness’ in the late Middle Ages because they were in fact not at home in that world, and wanted to

build a new world in which they would be at home. But today, when they have built the home, philosophers

can’t pretend that they are still homeless. At most they can worry about the condition of the home, and its

viability in the face of future challenges. On the other hand, those who feel ‘homeless’ in the modern world

are true revolutionaries today even if the ‘content’ of their ideas is very ‘conservative’ by the lights of the

proponents of modern philosophy, or the modern worldview in general.

35
 “philosophical life” into their real lives. This in turn is because, as Diderot’s

dialogue already made dramatically clear, even the most enlightened

individuals do not belong to a society whose practical life coheres even

minimally with demands of reflective reason.

(Wood, 2001, p. 116)

One can say only two things about Wood’s claim here: either his conception of

philosophy is so hopelessly idealistic that it cannot be fulfilled, by definition; or, if he is

talking about philosophy in more historical and realistic terms, the claim that

Enlightenment ideals are not ruling force today (at least in the developed world) seems to

me not just not true. Of course, these ideals aren’t absolutely dominant, but absolute

dominance is itself another unrealistic ideal. Of course, the claim that philosophy today

belongs to the ruling party doesn’t mean that there are no internal conflicts between

different groups within the party, and is not to deny that philosophy is a minority within

the ruling party. Gary Malinas explains one form that these internal conflicts take and its

nature succinctly:

Philosophers reflect the interests of masters to whom philosophers are

beholden. . . . At their best, philosophers identify the fundamental

presuppositions and assumptions of the societies and institutions to which

they belong. They explore their consequences, test them for consistency, and

compare them with alternatives. At their best, the only master that

philosophers serve is reason itself, while recognising that norms of good

36
 reasoning carry their own presuppositions and assumptions that are not

exempt from scrutiny. The reluctance of philosophers to shackle their

examinations of social and institutional norms and the practices based upon

them can put them in conflict with the aims and projects of the institutions

that employ them. These conflicts become poignant when institutions are

committed to parochial aims that define boundaries philosophers are prone to

ignore.

(Malinas, 2011, p. 65)

This, in my view, properly explains some of the internal conflicts that some philosophers

get into from time to time, but they are precisely internal conflicts; alternatives and

strategies which are in contention are almost as a rule internal as well. Such conflicts are

part and parcel of any living system, and there is nothing unique about the modern system

of governance, and philosophy as a party to that system.

Modern philosophy is one of the ruling forces in the world today,59 and when it

denies its ruling character, its conservative function (conservative relative to the system

as a whole, and not necessarily regarding internal alternatives within the system), it

becomes an ideology; and it is modern philosophy qua ideology and not qua philosophy

that must be rejected. All ideologies are dangerous; especially the ideologies with

revolutionary pretensions. This is a lesson which we have (or should have) learnt from

Paul Feyerabend, among others:

59
Again, here I’m not making any claim about the relative influence of philosophy in the modern world.

My claim is that it is a group within the ruling party. The internal power struggle of the ruling party doesn’t

concern me here.

37
 All ideologies must be seen in perspective. One must not take them too

seriously. One must read them like fairytales which have lots of interesting

things to say but which also contain wicked lies, or like ethical prescriptions

which may be useful rules of thumb but which are deadly when followed to

the letter.

(Feyerabend, 1981, p. 156)

The notion of philosophy as absolute critique is one such fairytale today, and it is doubly

dangerous because it is the custodian of other modern fairytales, such as science,

constitutional democracy, etc. Again, this is not necessarily to reject philosophy, science,

or constitutional democracy, but to reject the elements of them which have become

ideological. There is nothing inherently good or liberating about philosophy or science.

Feyerabend’s discussion of science in this context provides strong support for the

view I have taken in this paper towards modern philosophy. Comparing the different

roles that science played in the 17th and 18th centuries to the one it plays today, he writes:

Any ideology that breaks the hold of a comprehensive system of thought has

on the minds of men contributes to the liberation of man. Any ideology that

makes man question inherited beliefs is an aid to enlightenment. A truth that

reigns without checks and balances is a tyrant who must be overthrown, and

any falsehood that can aid us in the overthrow of this tyrant is to be

welcomed. It follows that 17th and 18th century science indeed was an

instrument of liberation and enlightenment. It does not follow that science is

38
 bound to remain such an instrument. There is nothing inherent in science or

any other ideology that makes it essentially liberating, Ideologies can

deteriorate and become stupid religions.

(Feyerabend, 1981, pp. 156-157, emphasis in the original)60

This exactly parallels my argument in this paper regarding modern philosophy, and

especially the distinction between the role it played when it was a minority revolutionary

force and the role it plays today, when it has become a dominant power (at least) in its

own specific realm.

I have argued that the conception of modern philosophy as absolute critique is

only one among others; even still, it has its own limitations. I have also argued that the

effort to universalise such a specific and narrow conception of philosophy is ideological

in its character and inherently oppressive, especially in societies (and minority traditions

within modern philosophy) which do not share the historical experiences of 17th- and 18th-

century Europe.61 Without rejecting this ideologically driven notion of philosophy

outright, philosophy in general as a liberating force has no future in the contemporary

world.

But I want to conclude by saying that such an ideologically driven notion of

philosophy is not the whole philosophy; fortunately, it is only a small part of it as it is

60
For an uncanny resemblance between Feyerabend’s argument here and Karl Popper’s notion of scientific

method as critique see Popper, 1969, pp. 190-192; the difference, however, is that Popper is still enthralled

by the myth of absolute critique while Feyerabend is not: he merely uses it pragmatically.
61
This last claim follows from my discussion of the different roles of internal and external criticism within

modern philosophy.

39
practiced throughout the world, including America and other first-world countries.62 And

this is because philosophy as reflection on reflection, as thinking about thinking, is

something universal and part of the human condition. Reflection and self-reflection,

whether attributed to evolution or considered as God-granted gifts, are regarded by most

cultures as the essence of humanity, differentiating humans from other beings, and

philosophy – as the study of this unique capacity and the impulse to develop instruments

to enhance this capacity – is an important human endeavour which is needed in every

society and culture, in order for those communities to survive and develop a human

civilisation imbued with the virtues of honour, courage, self-respect, and independence of

mind.

Despite the role of philosophy as a dominant ideology in today’s world, the bulk

of the philosophical enterprise is not ideological but constructive. This type of philosophy

is necessary to develop the thinking and reflective capacities of individual, society, and

culture. Every society and every culture needs these tools in order to deepen its

understanding of itself and the other: reflectively, independently, and critically. In this

paper, I have used Priest’s views as a foil to develop my argument, but, to be fair to him,

most of his work in philosophy is not ideological at all. It is only when he attempts to

develop his self-understanding of philosophy qua philosophy that part of it comes across

as highly ideological. Priest’s work, especially in logic, is in fact revolutionary; and any

62
One of the reasons for this might be that most philosophers ‘do’ philosophy rather than philosophising

about what it is; so, it might still be the case that they implicitly share the view of philosophy propounded

by Priest, but are not bothered about it much. It might also be possible that Priest’s view is not a majority

view. In a recent excellent collection of essays (perhaps with the exception of Nussbaum and Apel’s

essays) at least Wood seems to share Priest’s view of philosophy (see Ragland and Heidt, 2001).

40
culture would be impoverished if it were to be deprived of such a contribution. What we

need is Priest’s great efforts in logic, not his ideological views about what philosophy is.

Similarly, just to give one more example, the counter-example method used by modern

analytic philosophers should be learnt, and should be part and parcel of the modern

university education system because it is a great tool in enhancing the power of the

imagination,63 which in turn is crucial for developing the capacity to see alternative

scenarios when considering an issue, and consequently for assessing any issues regarding

any subject matter critically and thoughtfully, and arriving at a considered judgement

about it.

We can add on particular examples here, but that is something to be left for

another occasion. What I have tried to do in this paper is to make a case against a

particular conception of philosophy, and to show that it is not the only conception of

philosophy: this, I believe, is the first step towards reasserting the liberating role of

philosophy in the contemporary world.

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